Forward the Foundation (Page 80)

"Are there conspiracies in the Project? That sounds as impossible to me as finding significance in a dream."

"Every large project is riddled with angers, frictions, jealousies of all sorts."

"Sure. Sure. We’re talking nasty words and faces and nose thumbing and tale bearing. That’s nothing at all like talking conspiracy. It’s not like talking about killing Dad."

"It’s just a difference in degree. A small difference-maybe."

"You’ll never make Dad believe that. For that matter, you’ll never make me believe that." Raych walked hastily across the room and back again, "And you’ve been trying to nose out this so-called conspiracy, have you?"

Dors nodded.

"And you’ve failed."

Dors nodded.

"Doesn’t it occur to you that you’ve failed because there is no conspiracy, Mom?"

Dors shook her head. "I’ve failed so far, but that doesn’t shake my belief that one exists. I have that feeling."

Raych laughed. "You sound very ordinary, Mom. I would expect more from you than ‘I have that feeling."’

"There is one phrase that I think can be distorted into ‘lemonade.’ That’s ‘layman-aided.’ "

"Laymanayded? What’s that?"

"Layman-aided. Two words. A layman is what the mathematicians at the Project call nonmathematicians."

"Well?"

"Suppose," interjected Dors firmly, "someone spoke of ‘layman-aided death,’ meaning that some way could be found to kill Hari in which one or more nonmathematicians would play an essential role. Might that not have sounded to Wanda like ‘lemonade death,’ considering that she had never heard the phrase ‘layman-aided’ any more than you did, but that she was extraordinarily fond of lemonade?"

"Are you trying to tell me that there were people in Dad’s private office, of all places. How many people, by the way?"

"Wanda, in describing her dream, says two. My own feeling is that one of the two was none other than Colonel Hender Linn of the junta and that he was being shown the Prime Radiant and that there must have been a discussion involving the elimination of Hari."

"You’re getting wilder and wilder, Mom. Colonel Linn and another man in Dad’s office talking murder and not knowing that there was a little girl hidden in a chair, overhearing them? Is that it?"

"More or less."

"In that case, if there is mention of laymen, then one of the people, presumably the one that isn’t Linn, must be a mathematician."

"It would seem to be so."

"That seems utterly impossible. But even if it were true, which mathematician do you suppose might be in question? There are at least fifty in the Project."

"I haven’t questioned them all. I’ve questioned a few and some laymen, too, for that matter, but I have uncovered no leads. Of course, I can’t be too open in my questions."

"In short, no one you have interviewed has given you any lead on any dangerous conspiracy."

"No."

"I’m not surprised. They haven’t done so, because-"

"I know your ‘because,’ Raych. Do you suppose people are going to break down and give away conspiracies under mild questioning? I am in no position to try to beat the information out of anyone. Can you imagine what your father would say if I upset one of his precious mathematicians?"

Then, with a sudden change in the intonation of her voice, she said, "Raych, have you talked to Yugo Amaryl lately?"

"No, not recently. He’s not one of your sociable creatures, you know. If you pulled the psychohistory out of him, he’d collapse into a little pile of dry skin."

Dors made a face at the picture and said, "I’ve talked to him twice recently and he seems to me to be a little withdrawn. I don’t mean just tired. It is almost as though he’s not aware of the world."

"Yes. That’s Yugo."

"Is he getting worse lately?"

Raych thought awhile. "He might be. He’s getting older, you know. We all are. Except you, Mom."

"Would you say that Yugo had crossed the line and become a little unstable, Raych?"

"Who? Yugo? He has nothing to be unstable about. Or with. Just leave him at his psychohistory and he’ll mumble quietly to himself for the rest of his life."

"I don’t think so. There is something that interests him-and very strongly, too. That’s the succession."

"What succession?"

"I mentioned that someday your father might want to retire and it turns out that Yugo is determined-absolutely determined-to be his successor."

"I’m not surprised. I imagine that everyone agrees that Yugo is the natural successor. I’m sure Dad thinks so, too."

"But he seemed to me to be not quite normal about it. He thought I was coming to him to break the news that Hari had shoved him aside in favor of someone else. Can you imagine anyone thinking that of Hari?"

"It is surprising-" Raych interrupted himself and favored his mother with a long look. He said, "Mom, are you getting ready to tell me that it might be Yugo who’s at the heart of this conspiracy you’re speaking of? That he wants to get rid of Dad and take over?"

"Is that entirely impossible?"

"Yes, it is, Mom. Entirely. If there’s anything wrong with Yugo, it’s overwork and nothing else. Staring at all those equations or whatever they are, all day and half the night, would drive anyone crazy."

Dors rose to her feet with a jerk. "You’re right."

Raych, startled, said, "What’s the matter?"

"What you’ve said. It’s given me an entirely new idea. A crucial one, I think." Turning, without another word, she left.